


Here We Go For The Hundredth Time

by lxghtwoodlxve



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Crying, Drabble, Oneshot, Parabatai, Piano, Post 2x20, The Dankest Angst, brotp Jalec, i have no idea how to tag this, im so sorry, jace crying, really bad, this is like, uhhhhhhhhhh, whoops, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 02:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxghtwoodlxve/pseuds/lxghtwoodlxve
Summary: jace and alec try and talk things out.[post 2x20][actual word vomit. really. read at your own risk.]





	Here We Go For The Hundredth Time

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhh  
> taking a break from smut for That Sweet Angst  
> im such a sadomasochist when it comes to this shit ksdjksks  
> title is from Bleed It Out by Linkin Park. a pretty lit song ngl  
> idea came from something that the lovely @trashydaddario tweeted that i totally mangled. im feeling mushy, sue me  
> come chat on twitter! @lxghtwoodlxve  
> stay safe babies  
> \- t xo <3

He sits down, cracking his fingers, and immediately begins. This is the least frequented corridor of the Institute, the least likely place for someone to find him. Even though playing the piano is supposed to be relaxing - and it usually is - this time, there's no joy. There's no release. Nothing to stop the memories floating into his skull, bouncing around like knives, ready to shred his consciousness to pieces like his still broken and healing flesh.

And Alec can feel it. Alec can feel, through their bond, the guilt, and the pressure in both of their chests builds and builds so gradually that they don't notice the growing distance. It stretches out, an ocean between them, until Alec finds himself standing outside the door, ready to knock.

And he does. Gently, at first, the brush of his knuckles on the heavy wooden door barely audible from the other side. And Alec has no idea why he's being so cautious; he never has been, not even when Jace was new and traumatised. But after a beat, the piano continues, a crescendo growing into tension, growing into the impatience thrumming through Alec's already tight chest. So Alec is more insistent, the heavy rap of the knuckles on his right hand becoming a slam from the same palm after another moment of piano crescendo. Then, finally, he heard Jace's hands hesitate on the keys, and Alec knows that they're where they need to be.

On the other side of the door, Jace hears everything. Alec's first, apprehensive knock, the sigh, the other, harsher sounds interrupting a sonata he'd forgotten the name of at least three years ago. And eventually, the rough slap of Alec's hands drags him, kicking and screaming, into the room. He sighs, dropping the gentle rhythm of his finger on the keys suddenly, abruptly, and immediately wants to run. Instead, he gets up, cautiously, and moves as slowly as he can get away with towards the door.

Alec waits with bated breath on the other side, ready to get the conversation over with, so he can return to his boyfriend, to safety and comfort and a sometimes disturbing lack of mortality. To this thought, the door is flung open to a smirking Jace, the infuriating cocky stance of a man who knows just how good he really is. And Alec doesn't want anything to do with it, for a fleeting moment, because he can still feel the guilt and pain and distrust shared between them.

"Alec, if you wanted to listen to me play, you should've just-," Jace begins, ready to dismiss this will a roll of his eyes and a quip about how talented he is, but Alec cuts him off the second he realises where this was going to go.

"I don't care what you're playing." And with that one sentence, Jace looks so hurt, so insulted in that moment that Alec almost takes it back. But he stands his ground, and barges into the room, never more grateful for his balance rune.

"Then why are you here?" Jace says, and he leans, arms crossed, against the now closed door.

"Don't take me for an idiot, and I won't mistake you for one. When were you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you about what?" They're both angry, now, the words coming out too fast, too bluntly. But this was how they had always been - either too sharp, or not sharp enough, never quite balancing out, like slightly crooked scales.

"You died."

"I died a long time ago." Jace replied, looking at his fingernails, his feet, the bookcase. Looking anywhere but Alec. And he sees red.

"Stop with that self-pitying, overdramatic, bullshit tirade, okay? Yeah, you had a shitty dad, yeah, you died and came back to life, yeah, you thought the so-called love of your life was also your sister," Alec explodes. He's had enough. "But that does not give you an excuse to mope around, and hook up with random bartenders, and lie to everyone, including your own parabatai about every single interesting thing that happens!"

"No, Alec, it's the perfect excuse!" Jace returns with equal heat, the spark Alec provided being the perfect excuse to try setting the room on fire.

"It shouldn't be!" Alec shoots back, pacing away from the other boy and gripping his hair in frustration. Emotion takes over for a second, and he turns back to see the husk of the man he once chose for his parabatai. His eyes empty, his chest hollow, his own body curling in on itself as if to waste away. And Alec refuses to let it. He crosses the room, strides long and sure, and decides to ignore it. To ignore it all, and protect the other half of his soul before it's lost forever. To envelope his parabatai into a hug, gripping tightly like it's the lifeline they'd both been missing.

And Jace is shocked. He expected a harsh lecture, some fighting, a few weeks of the cold shoulder before an essential mission brought them back to where they should be. Not to be held like he's the most important thing in someone's life - not even Clary does that, not that Maryse ever did, not that Maia ever could have - or to have barely concealed insults murmured into his ear like they were endearments, like they were a prayer, like they were a reason to stay. Alec feels Jace's tears soaking into his old, threadbare sweater before Jace himself realises that he's crying, once again seeking comfort from someone who rarely ever seeks it, but knows it's there, should he ever do so.

And it feels like home, somehow. 


End file.
